E is for Eomer
by rynogeny
Summary: The third Home of the Horselord Sequel to Heart of the Horselord. Eomer and Lisswyn both struggle with different aspects of their roles while enroute to introduce Lisswyn to an old friend.
1. Chapter 1

_Another sequel to Heart of the Horselord. This takes place about three months after the events of Never Alone._

* * *

Holding a rolled up piece of parchment, Eomer walked through the doors onto the porch of Meduseld. He nodded to the guards, then looked out over Edoras. The day was grey and overcast, but not particularly cold for late winter, as evidenced by the number of people he could see out and about. His people were ready for spring. _He_ was ready for spring.

Movement caught his eye and he looked down, saw Elfhelm and Eothain starting up the steps toward him.

"We heard a messenger was let through the gates not long ago?" Elfhelm asked the question as he stepped up on the porch, a wary expression in his eyes.

Eomer nodded, held up the parchment. "Nothing alarming. Gimli and his dwarves have arrived at the caves, and he wished me to know that work on the wall is commencing. He's suggesting in his usual shy manner that I should come see for myself."

"Now? In winter?" Eothain asked.

Elfhelm grinned. "Does he not remember you're still somewhat recently wed, and that your lady wife may not pleased if you hare off to Helm's Deep?"

Refusing to rise to the bait, Eomer said, "He suggests I bring her with me, so he can meet her."

Elfhelm raised an eyebrow, but before the other man could respond, Eomer turned to Eothain. "We'll be on horseback, so could make it in a day if need be, and there are places along the way we could take shelter if a storm strikes."

Eothain looked thoughtful. "And we'll have the tents…" he said slowly.

Eomer felt like a child trying to convince his parents to let him do something he badly wanted to do, and resentment flared for a quick moment before being stifled. Eothain took his role as captain of the guard seriously – nearly too much so. But neither friendship nor awareness of how quickly his friend would sacrifice his life for those in his charge would allow Eomer to express that frustration.

Eothain finally nodded, and smiled. "It would be good to get out of Edoras for a while."

Eomer grinned back, could not resist teasing him. "I have your permission then?"

Elfhelm made a strangled sound that might have been laughter, and turned from them, while a dull red made its way slowly up Eothain's face. When he responded, his voice was stiff. "You do not need any permission from me. You know that, sire."

Eomer sighed, wished he'd held his tongue. Wished he could tease his oldest friend the way he used to. "I was jesting with you," he said quietly. "What I know is that I need to be certain you will always tell me if you think something is dangerous, whether I want to hear it or not."

Obviously uncomfortable, Eothain nodded. Elfhelm had turned back to them, a sober look on his face. "When do you think to go?" he asked.

Grateful for the change of subject, Eomer looked thoughtfully out over Edoras, then back to the two men. "I haven't spoken of it yet to Lisswyn, but was thinking perhaps in two days' time?" He deliberately phrased it as a question.

Eothain nodded. "I'll go let the men know, and check that the tents are in good repair."

Eomer watched him go, aware that much of his earlier enthusiasm had vanished.

"Do not let it trouble you," Elfhelm said softly. "He has not yet forgotten the orcs separating you, then watching them target you when he was unable to help you. He feels his duty keenly – not just to the friend of his childhood, but to the people of the Riddermark."

"I know. But I miss the friend of _my_ childhood." He hadn't meant to speak the words aloud.

"He will never lose his vigilance, and that is the way it should be. But as time passes without further threat, he'll relax. You were too newly king, he was too newly the captain of your guard when the orc attack occurred. He still feels he failed you."

"It's been months, and wasn't his fault."

"He will never see the latter, and as to the former – most of those months you've been safely tucked up in Meduseld. He'll be fine, Eomer, once he sees that leaving the walls of Edoras doesn't automatically mean danger to you."

Grateful for the wisdom in the older man's words, Eomer nodded. "Perhaps this trip will help."

"No doubt it will. Now hadn't you better go warn the queen of your plans?"

* * *

"Ah. Finally."

Lisswyn looked up from her basket of colored thread and smiled at the satisfaction in Eomer's tone. "What?"

"I've been looking all over for you. Hilde said she thought you were down at Eothain and Ceolwyn's, but Ceolwyn said you'd just left and gone to consult with Mylla on something at the healer's cottage. So I went there, only to have Mylla tell me that she thought you were in the kitchens. And then Tille said she thought you were down in the weaving room…"

Knowing from his tone it was nothing serious, and nearly helpless with laughter at his expression, Lisswyn walked over to him, slipped her hands up around his neck. "It's true – my morning has been rather busy, but I'm sorry you couldn't find me. Perhaps I can make it up to you."

Humor glinted in his eyes. "Oh? And how are you going to do that?"

"Like this." She tugged his head down, and brushed his lips with hers, lightly, rather teasingly, then again. Was unsurprised when his arms came around her, pulled her firmly against him.

"So far, your debt is only deepening, my lady," he murmured against her mouth.

With a smile, she yielded, opening completely to him. They'd been wed for nearly four months and she was coming to know his body as well as her own, knew the pleasure they could bring one another. How was it, then, that a simple kiss could still move her so?

As always when he kissed her, she lost track of time, and when he lifted his head, pressed his lips against her hair, they were both a bit out of breath. "You may have paid off the debt you incurred by forcing me to hunt all over Edoras for you," he muttered, "but now you owe me for starting something we can't finish until tonight." Tension and humor were intermingled in his voice.

Lisswyn laughed and rubbed her cheek against him. "Why were you looking for me?"

"What?"

At the confusion in his voice, she looked up, realized his mind was still on the kiss, and felt something sweet shift inside her that she could affect him so. Trying to stifle more laughter, she repeated, "Why were you searching for me?"

Red tinged his cheeks, and he gave her a mock scowl, then stepped back a bit and handed her a rather crumpled piece of rolled up parchment he'd been holding. "Gimli and his dwarves arrived at Helm's Deep a few weeks ago. He'd like for us to come for a visit – he wants to meet you, wants me to see the progress being made on the rebuilding of the wall and his plans for the caves."

Gimli. Stories of his heroism during the war were often accompanied by jokes about his love of ale and comments about his gruffness. She'd never met a dwarf – had never even seen one – and the thought of meeting Gimli, with his reputation for both heroics and bluntness, made her just a bit nervous.

But there was such a hopeful look in Eomer's eyes. It wasn't just that he wanted to see his friend, though that was most of it. It was also a chance to escape Edoras for a while. Though their marriage had helped, the past four months had not been easy on him. It was the longest period of time he'd been in one place since joining his first eored, or so Elfhelm had told her. He was used to being out and going, to long days of riding over the plains of the Mark. Being cooped up in Edoras had been an adjustment for him, perhaps had been the hardest part of becoming king.

She smiled, reached up to cup his cheek. "When do we leave?"

Relief came into his eyes as he turned, pressed his lips against her palm. He'd been afraid she wouldn't want to go, she realized. Didn't he know she'd willingly and cheerfully follow him anywhere?

"In two days' time." Apparently anticipating her response, he added, "There's a lot to do to get ready, but the people of Meduseld know what needs to be done."

"Of course." Having seen how well the king's household worked together, she wasn't surprised.

"I'm going to go let Ealdred and Betta know." He kissed her and walked out, his step quick and light-hearted.

Lisswyn stared down at the parchment in her hand and felt some of her good mood drain away. She unrolled the parchment, stared down at it.

He thought she could read. Why else would he have handed it to her?

Taking the parchment, she went over and sat down next to the fire, spread it open on her lap. The marks meant words. She knew that. But how did you know which curve meant what word?

Annoyed, she crumpled the parchment up again. Outside of the nobility in Edoras, very few Eorlingas knew how to read and write. And Eomer should know that. Did know that. He wasn't out of touch with his people. So why did he seem to assume she was an exception?

No one in her village had known their letters. And some, like her uncle, had expressed nothing but derision for those who had so little real work to do – as he had put it – that they had time to spend reading and writing. Lisswyn had never agreed with him. There was something magical about being able to keep a physical record of important things. Of being able to communicate with people far away, via a piece of parchment. But there had been no one to teach her.

And now, her husband seemed to assume she knew.

No, that wasn't fair. If he really thought about it, he'd know. And maybe it was some sort of compliment as to how well she was settling in at Edoras, becoming a member of the nobility, that he'd momentarily forgotten.

But still…as queen, it was a skill she should have, and Eomer wouldn't be the only one assuming she knew how. So she would have to learn. But oh, she was dreading telling him. Even knowing it was an unreasonable expectation for him to have of her, even knowing that he probably _did_ know it, if he'd merely stop to think about it, she didn't want to have to admit that there was something he needed of her, as queen, that she couldn't – yet – do. And he would be embarrassed that it hadn't occurred to him.

She stared down at the now well-battered parchment. Maybe there was someone in Edoras who could discreetly teach her, someone who would not make a big deal of the fact that the queen didn't already know how. Ealdred, perhaps? She liked the steward, appreciated his dry sense of humor and practical approach to problems. But he was so busy. Or Mylla. Did the midwife know how to read? Lisswyn rather thought she did. Being able to write down notes about patients and potions would certainly be helpful to the healers.

Well, she'd talk to Eomer about it. Hopefully, there'd be time on the trip to Helm's Deep. And maybe by the time they left, she'd have figured out a way to approach him that would result in neither of them feeling too foolish.

* * *

Dawn was just breaking two days later when Lisswyn, mounted on Dancer just outside the main gate of the city, turned to observe the others who were preparing to leave. Despite her confidence in Ealdred and Betta, she'd been surprised at how fast things had been organized for the trip.

They were nearly all mounted, along with two carts being pulled by draft horses. One of the carts carried tents and wood for fires, while the other was nearly full of extra sleeping furs and boxes of food. Nearly full, except for Brynwyn and the two older children of Ceolwyn and Eothain – Jocosa, who at seven was a year older than Brynwyn, and Hengest, almost three. Ceolwyn, her six month old son strapped to her back, was mounted and riding along next to the cart, on the opposite side from where Lisswyn was positioned. To Lisswyn's relief, Brynwyn was laughing. Her sister had been unhappy about leaving Snowball behind, and only Hilde's promise that the kitten would be cherished by her and Liffild had persuaded the little girl to make the trip without her pet.

Brecka rode on the other side of Ceolwyn, while Eowyn, Eoden and Andric were up near Eomer and Eothain at the head of the group.

She looked up at a shout, saw Eothain motioning them to begin riding out, and with a grin toward Ceolwyn, she nudged Dancer forward. As on the journey from the caves, the rest of the men – all members of the king's guard – grouped themselves in a loose circle around the carts.

It wasn't a bad day for a ride in late winter. It was cloudy, but not too cold, and there were hints that they might see the sun later. And Eomer was right – it felt good to be out of Edoras.

Even as she thought of him, he rode up next to her on Firefoot, excitement and pleasure glinting in his eyes. Before she could speak, the children in the cart caught his attention, and he watched them for a moment before turning back toward her, a faraway look in his eyes.

"One of my happiest childhood memories is of going along with my parents from Aldburg to Edoras on a day not unlike this one," he said. "It must have been about three years before my father died. I would have been almost seven, Eowyn nearly three. We alternated between riding in the cart and riding with our parents, and I remember laughing at something that we all knew to be utterly silly." The grin faded. "My father was in such good spirits that day," he said softly.

Wondering if Firefoot would allow it, Lisswyn nudged Dancer a bit closer to the warhorse, and held out her hand, wanting to acknowledge the memory in some physical way. He smiled again, and reaching out, grasped her hand, squeezed.

"It turned out to be an even better day than I'd imagined, as there was a young colt waiting for me at Edoras. I had a pony, of course, but the colt was to be my first horse. My father figured that by the time he was old enough to ride, I'd be large enough to handle him."

"I rode him for fifteen years," he finished, "and then he lived for another four years in contented retirement at Aldburg."

It was clear from the smile that the memory brought him no pain. Grateful that he had some good memories of the time before his parents had died, she squeezed his hand again, then let go, figuring it would be safest to put at least a little distance between the two horses before Firefoot got edgy.

"Eomer King!" Brynwyn called from the cart.

Eomer looked over at her, and, as always, the love and affection visible in his eyes for her sister caused Lisswyn's own heart to stumble a bit. "Yes?"

"Can I ride with you sometime? Please?"

Amused, he flashed Lisswyn a grin before calling back, "Of course." He nudged Firefoot over to the cart and held his hand out, and Brynwyn, obviously delighted that he'd responded to her request so quickly, took it and scrambled up the side of the cart so he could lift her onto the horse in front of him. Guiding Firefoot through the other travelers, he headed toward some open space to the side of the group, obviously intending to take her for one of the wild gallops that all three of them – man, child, and horse – loved so much.

Lisswyn smiled as she watched them go. Part of the great miracle of his love for her was his obvious love for Brynwyn – enough that she'd had to intervene occasionally to make sure he didn't spoil her sister by agreeing with her every request as soon as she made it.

As they rode out of her direct line of sight, her thoughts turned to other things, and Lisswyn's smile faded. She still hadn't figured out how to broach the subject of reading with him. She wasn't even certain why it was so hard to contemplate doing so. Perhaps because nearly everything else that had been required of her as queen she'd been able to figure out on her own, by watching those around her, or simply by asking a few brief questions. But reading was different. And what about writing? She frowned. Did you have to learn that separately, or did learning to read mean you automatically knew how to write?

"What is it?" Ceolwyn spoke from beside her, and startled, Lisswyn looked up, realized the other woman had moved around the cart, was riding next to her.

"What do you mean?"

"You were smiling when the King rode off with Brynwyn, then your face fell, as if something was troubling you."

And wasn't that one of the hardest things about being queen? Knowing that you were always under surveillance, even when you didn't realize it? But she managed a smile for the woman who'd become such a close friend and vital part of her life.

Then the smiled faded again, and she looked thoughtfully at the other woman. "You can read and write, can't you?" she finally said slowly.

The confusion in Ceolwyn's eyes was quickly replaced by compassion, and she nodded. "Yes – though I didn't learn until after Eothain and I were married."

"Who taught you? Was it very difficult to learn?"

Ceolwyn frowned. "Yes and no. We started out with Eothain teaching me, and it didn't work very well. He enjoys reading and is really a very good teacher, but I wanted so badly to please him that it became a source of stress and unhappiness for both of us. Eventually, I asked Mylla to help me and it went more smoothly after that. As to the skills themselves…I found writing more enjoyable than reading. I liked drawing as a child – even just using a stick in the mud – and writing felt similar to me. I found writing the letters to make words to be very satisfying."

Lisswyn didn't respond immediately, thinking through what Ceolwyn had said. At least learning to read as an adult was possible. And it answered the question as to whether Mylla would be able – and presumably willing – to teach her.

But if she were going to ask Mylla to teach her, it would mean waiting until they'd returned to Edoras. Even as the thought occurred to her, she realized why she'd been delaying discussing it with Eomer. She didn't want to have to confess it as a problem to be solved so much as one she'd figured out the solution to on her own. Telling him she was _learning_ to read and write didn't seem as embarrassing, somehow, as simply admitting she couldn't.

"Perhaps Eothain could help you," Ceolwyn said quietly. At Lisswyn's look, she continued, "he's really a very good teacher. He's started teaching Jocosa her letters, and is being very patient with her. It was just me that he couldn't teach, I think, although we might have more success now than when we were first married. I could ask him if he'd be willing to teach you."

Lisswyn nodded. "Yes, please. Thank you, Ceolwyn." And maybe, if Eothain was truly willing to help her, she could at least learn the basics before having to admit to Eomer that she didn't already know how.

* * *

_A/N: I thought I remembered reading a story here several years ago with a similar (or the same?) title as what I've given this one, though as I remember it, the roles were reversed (it was an Eomer/Lothiriel story). When I went to verify that, though, I was unable to find it. Even in the publishing world, titles are frequently re-used, but I would have liked to be able to at least acknowledge the author who previously used this title. My apologies in that respect! I tried to come up with a completely unique title for this, but 'E is for Eomer' is perfect in a number of ways (as you will see) and I finally gave up.  
_

_A/N2: There are four chapters in total for this, already written, which will be posted over the next few days._


	2. Chapter 2

The morning passed quickly. Eomer alternated between riding next to Lisswyn and riding up at the front of the group – sometimes with Brynwyn, sometimes without. But he was always on the move, emphasizing to Lisswyn how much he was enjoying the trip itself, being out and away from meetings, his desk, and his advisors.

By the time they broke for lunch, Lisswyn was glad to be off Dancer for a while. She loved the young mare, loved being able to ride. But it had been many years since she'd had the opportunity to ride for an extended period of time, and she rather thought she'd be paying for it the following day.

She was walking a little ways down the bank of the stream they'd stopped by when Eomer came up behind her. She'd stopped when she heard him, and turned. He wore a puzzled expression, and she smiled, realizing how odd she must have looked, stretching as she walked. "It's been a very long time since I've spent so many hours in a saddle."

"Ah." He walked over, pulled her to him, began rubbing her lower back. "I'll rub the rest of the stiffness out for you tonight in our tent," he murmured, a teasing note in his voice.

"Eomer!" It was the tone as much as the words that sent a thrill through her, and even knowing no one was near enough to hear, she blushed and hid her face in his chest.

He laughed, and she felt him lean down and press a kiss against her hair.

The afternoon was half gone when Lisswyn heard Eomer give a shout of laughter. She looked up from where she'd been about to say something to Ceolwyn in time to see Eowyn take off across the plains, obviously having just challenged her brother to a race.

Her grin faded as Eothain gave an altogether different shout – more swear than anything else – and took off after them.

"Oh, dear," said Ceolwyn, her voice troubled.

* * *

It was so exhilarating simply to run. Eomer wasn't at all sure he was going to win – Eowyn was lighter and her stallion bred more for speed than was Firefoot – but it felt so good just to run. He'd galloped around the group earlier with Brynwyn, but both he and Firefoot were always aware, always just a bit more careful when the little girl was with them. Now, however, there was nothing but land, horse, and sky, and ahead of them, his sister, seeming to take just as much delight in the run as he was. He hadn't felt this free in…forever. Always before, even before he was made Third Marshal, there had been a threat to worry about. But now, Sauron and Saruman were defeated, the Mark safe. Hunlaf and his minions were gone. A fragile peace even existed with the Dunlendings.

He caught something on the edge of his vision and glanced that way in time to see Eothain coming up next to him, nearly vibrating with fury. "Eomer, damn you! Stop," he roared.

Eomer was so startled by the words and their tone, he was nearly unseated when he pulled too hard on the reins and Firefoot stopped more quickly than he'd anticipated – then danced around, obviously as frustrated as Eomer by the curtailment of the run.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Anxious, he turned, looking around for the threat that had Eothain so disturbed, and noted with relief that Eowyn was bringing her mount around to join them.

"You fool! You cannot simply take off that way with no warning. I was barely able to keep up." Eothain was out of breath, and angrier than Eomer had seen him in a very long time.

His own temper burst free. "You just scared years off my life simply because I didn't ask you before agreeing to a race with my sister? You're the captain of my guard, Eothain, not my mother!"

"As irresponsible as you're being, it's the same thing!"

For a moment, speech simply failed. Irresponsible? Eothain thought him irresponsible? Vicious words, hot words, wanted to come. And if he couldn't say them to his oldest friend, whom could he say them to?

But then he looked over, saw on a slight rise of land the rest of his guard, shuffling uneasily as their horses caught their tension, along with Ceolwyn, the boys…and Lisswyn.

He was their king. And not even to his oldest friend could he risk the words that wanted to spew. He bit them back, but could not completely keep the fury out of his tone when he spoke. "Then perhaps you should pity the Riddermark, Eothain, for having an irresponsible fool for a king."

Wearily, he turned Firefoot back to continue the journey, settling in the middle of the group, near the carts but far enough away to be spared conversation. Eothain resumed his position at the front of the group, and Eowyn, concern for both of them on her face, rode next to him.

A largely silent group made camp late in the afternoon. Though no one but Eowyn had really caught what had happened, had heard Eothain's words, even the children were reacting to the tension.

He dismounted and tossed Firefoot's reins to Eoden, nodding his head at the boy in thanks, then stalked down to the trees that bounded the stream that ran next to where they were setting up camp. The stream curved around in both directions, providing a protective barrier on both sides. Surely Eothain wouldn't begrudge him that much privacy.

The area between the trees and water was rocky, and he picked his way slowly to where the stream curved before twisting away in a different direction, and collapsed on one of the boulders. Mindlessly, he reached down for a handful of pebbles, started tossing them at the water one at a time.

Was Eothain right? Had he endangered himself, and thus the Riddermark, merely by going for a race with his sister? No. That was foolish. They'd been on an open plain, had seen no signs of brigands or robbers, let alone orcs or their ilk.

But that didn't mean there wasn't merit in the other man's accusation. Eomer wasn't free to live his life as he chose, hadn't been since the day Theodred died. In many ways, his life, at least as he had known it, had ended that day, too.

Shame prickled the back of his neck at the thought. He was alive, his cousin wasn't. And despite the kingship, he was alive, had much joy in his life. Had been able to marry the woman he loved – something his cousin would never know.

Movement down the stream caught his eye, and he whipped his head around, prepared to blast Eothain – or whomever he'd sent to watch over him – only to see it was the object of his thoughts. Lisswyn came out of the trees in the same spot where he had, and quietly sat down on one of the boulders without looking at him.

Feeling foolish, he continued to sit where he was, continued to throw the pebbles in the water while wondering at her silence. It wasn't making him feel closed in, he realized. She never did.

At that was probably the point. She was there, would be there, waiting, when he was ready for company. Would give him whatever peace and solitude he could manage until then.

It was time he fully accepted that he was Eomer-king and no longer free to be simply Eomer, Eomund's son. Being king would always have to take precedence over being himself.

But there were compensations for everything he could no longer be or do. He stood, went to her.

Her heart aching at the defeated look on his face, Lisswyn watched him to come toward her. Eowyn had told her the basics of what had happened and she wondered – what hurt worse? The tension between him and Eothain or the curtailed ride, and all he thought it represented?

Both, probably.

He stopped in front of her and held out his hand, and she allowed him to pull her up. He said nothing, simply kept her hand in his as he led her back to camp.

The others were gathered in the open space in the middle of the camp, but when he started in that direction, Lisswyn stopped, tugged him toward their tent, instead. At his frown, she asked, "Do you truly wish to have supper with the others? If so, we can certainly do so. But I've arranged to have our meal in our tent."

He simply stared at her in response, a bleak look in his eyes. "I should make an appearance."

"No. Not tonight, not with members of your guard. It's not necessary. Come." And she led him to their tent.

It was more spartan than it could have been, as Eomer saw no point in having the men and horses carry more than the essentials. But it was comfortable, with a pile of furs and blankets on one side for a bed, several other smaller piles on the other side for a seating area, and in the middle, a small covered brazier providing heat and a little light.

Eomer gave her a puzzled glance.

"Brynwyn is in Eowyn's tent for the night."

The confusion cleared and he nodded, then began to remove his armor. Lisswyn moved to help him, and they worked together in silence. When he was wearing only his tunic and leggings, he sat down on one of the smaller piles of furs with a quiet sigh and reached for the goblet of wine she'd placed there earlier, along with his meal.

Lisswyn moved behind him, began to rub his shoulders.

"I'm fine, Lisswyn."

"I know," she said, without stopping. He was so tense.

He smeared soft cheese on a slab of bread and asked, "have you eaten?"

"Some."

He took a few bites, then shifted, pulled her around and down onto his lap. In addition to the bread and soft cheese, there was dried meat, hard cheese, and fruit. As they'd be at the Deep tomorrow, there hadn't seemed much point in bringing a greater variety of food.

He handed her a slice of the bread and a piece of meat, then took more for himself.

They ate in silence for a few moments, then he pushed the food away. "He called me irresponsible, and a fool." There was bafflement and hurt in his voice more than temper.

"You are neither, and Eothain knows that. You frightened him. He takes your safety seriously."

"He'd never let me sit a horse again if it were solely up to him."

Grasping for words, any words that would help, she finally said, "You are still a new king. He is still a new captain of the king's guard, and is yet struggling to understand his role – one he feels he already failed you in once."

"I've been king for nearly a year."

Unsurprised he'd focused on that part of her statement, Lisswyn put her hand on his cheek, forced him to look at her. "But it was an unusual year, and until the last four months, there was very little time for thinking about what you intend your kingship to be, let alone communicating that to anyone else, including Eothain."

He frowned. "What do you mean, 'what I intend my kingship to be'?"

She kept her voice gentle. "You are still trying to be Theodred, Eomer, or at least still trying to be the king you think he would have been."

"That is not a bad thing. Theodred would have made a great king!"

"Of course he would have. And I'm not saying there's not much you can learn by thinking about how he would have done things. But the man who was Third Marshal of the Riddermark would make a good king, too, if he would merely trust himself a little more, would apply some of those same leadership qualities to being king. In your efforts to be like what you think Theodred would have been, you're not really being yourself."

He lowered his head to rest against hers, but didn't respond, and after a moment, she softly continued, "all kingships are different, Eomer, because one man is different from another. You can learn from Theodred without trying to be him. What the Mark needs now is Eomer being Eomer king, not Eomer trying to be Theodred King."

He nodded slowly, then frowned. "But what does that have to do with Eothain?"

"Because you're not sure of yourself or what you should do, neither is he. He followed you as Third Marshal. He'll follow you as king, once it's clear what that means – what you expect of both yourself and him. You're not going to be a king who's content to stay cooped up in Edoras all the time, but that's fine. Maybe that's what the Mark needs right now. Granted, it will be easier for you to do that once there's an heir, but that doesn't mean you can't be communicating to Eothain, and others on your council, the kind of king you intend to be. You need to talk to Eothain, make clear that you trust him, but that you need him to trust you, too. And then together, you can figure out what's safe, and what acceptable risks are."

There was a long silence between them, as Eomer appeared to be thinking about what she'd said. "You really believe I've been trying to be Theodred? Do others think that?"

"When there's a battle, or a threat – as with Hunlaf – you're very clearly you, very clearly and confidently the man who was Third Marshal. But in many of the day-to-day things, you're still trying to find your way. And often, if you'd just do what seems right to you, instead of spending so much time trying to guess what your cousin or uncle would do, you'd probably be better off."

He scowled at that, then his expression cleared a bit. "If I followed my own inclination, I'd probably start by banishing most of my council to Harad," he muttered.

Startled, she saw the grin tugging at his mouth. Relieved that his mood seemed to be lightening, she grinned back. "Then maybe you should do so." She stroked his cheek. "I'm not suggesting you've been a bad king. The people love you, and are grateful to you. But you're making yourself miserable trying to be someone you're not, and that's something no one expects of you."

In answer, he leaned down, nuzzled her, but was quiet for a while. "Not exactly miserable. I have you."

Uncertain what else to say, she slipped her hand up around the back of his neck, turned her head into his kiss.

"Maybe we should work some more on that heir you were mentioning," he murmured.

"Why do you think Brynwyn is sleeping in Eowyn's tent?" At his laugh, she slipped off his lap, stood, then held her hand out to him. He got to his feet, and still holding her hand in his, stopped to shutter the brazier a bit more, so there'd be less light, then led her to the sleeping furs.

It was colder in this part of the tent, and she shivered as she slipped out of her boots, tunic and riding leggings. Turning, she saw that Eomer had been faster, was already crawling between the furs and blankets. "Show-off." She was laughing when she said it, though her teeth were chattering so hard it was probably difficult to tell.

He grinned and held up the covers for her, and she was reaching for him even as he dropped them back around them, cocooning her in warmth despite the frigid temperatures that were just on the other side of the tent walls.

"Better?"

"Much," she murmured, turning her face up for his kiss.

The rough, calloused texture of the skin on his hands was at odds with the gentle way he touched her, soothing, skimming over her body in a manner intended to slowly start the ascent to desire and passion.

But Lisswyn wasn't in the mood for tenderness – or at least not entirely. Surpressing a grin, she responded to his kiss even as she drew her foot up the back of his leg until she reached the underside of his knee.

He choked, broke the kiss and tried to squirm away from her, but she was ruthless, following him until he was on his back with her draped over him, reaching for his knee again. Who would ever have guessed the king of the Riddermark was ticklish?

"Lisswyn!" Her name came out half laughter, half-strangled frustration as they struggled. Finally succeeding in flipping them back over, he settled his weight on top of her, his legs pinning hers, her hands held in place next to her head. Gasping for breath through her laughter, she didn't need to be able to see him to know he was glaring at her.

"You've started a dangerous game, my lady." Bringing her hands up over her head, he pinned them in his left hand so he could use his right to begin tickling her ribs.

Lisswyn gave a shout of laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away and knowing there was no hope of being able to do so. Why had she started this? Oh, yes. Because she'd wanted to hear him laugh.

Well, he was doing so in full measure now.

She was trying to get her leg free long enough to attack the back of his knee again when it occurred to her just how thin the walls of the tent were. "Eomer, stop!" she dropped her voice to a whisper, forced herself to go still.

The soft plea registered where louder, laughing protests might not, and he stopped, dropping his head onto her shoulder with a muttered oath as he realized what was wrong.

Laughter wanted to erupt again at his tone until she realized he was getting ready to roll off her, and she locked her arms and legs around him. "Don't," she murmured softly. To further insulate them, she pulled up the covers that had slipped down during their tussel. "We'll be quiet."

He went still for a moment, then humor came back into his tone as well as he nuzzled her. "Will we?"

His voice was husky, and she shivered in response. She relaxed, ran her hands up his sides. "Absolutely."

He turned his mouth to hers, kissed her. And this time she didn't mind the tenderness.


	3. Chapter 3

As was usual for him, Eomer came awake suddenly – one moment wholly asleep, the next utterly awake – and listened. The camp was quiet, though he could hear the soft conversation of the men standing guard, telling tales to keep themselves awake, no doubt. With the time sense that had never failed him, he knew morning wasn't far off, but he cuddled closer to Lisswyn instead of rising. He'd get up in a bit and stir the fire in the brazier, get the tent as warm as possible before she awoke. But for the moment, he was content to continue lying next to her. There was no hurry this morning, no rush to break camp.

He grinned, remembering their laughter and loving from the night before. She'd surprised him. He'd expected her to be embarrassed at the realization that the other adults in the camp, at least, would have guessed what their laughter was probably a prelude to.

But as always, her focus had been on him. It had only gradually dawned on him after their wedding that while she took her duties as queen seriously – nearly too much so – her first concern was always him. Loving him, encouraging him, supporting him.

The grin faded, was replaced by a frown of confusion as he recalled her words. _What the Mark needs now is Eomer being Eomer king, not Eomer trying to be Theodred King_.

Was she right? Had he been trying to be his cousin?

Perhaps. He'd admired Theodred, had seen in him the wisdom and strength to rule, a wisdom he'd never felt he had. Could ruling the Mark be as simple as leading his eored had been? No, of course not. But maybe it wasn't as different as he'd tried to make it.

Although he'd been joking when he'd threatened to banish his council to Harad, perhaps he should rethink whom his advisors were. Some of them he'd chosen, but others had been on his uncle's council before Wormtongue came to power. They'd suffered for their loyalty after trying to warn Theoden of Grima's duplicity, and Eomer had wanted to acknowledge that by reinstating them to their positions of trust and leadership.

But their views were very different from his own, shaped in part by what had happened to his uncle. Was there a way to honor them for their allegiance, while still having a council that matched his vision? Possibly. It was worth considering, anyway.

And that left only Eothain. He scowled, the words from the day before still stinging. Irresponsible, indeed.

There had to be a way to communicate to Eothain that he needed more of him than just nursemaid. He would just have to find it.

Lisswyn shifted in his arms, and Eomer leaned down, brushed her temple with a kiss. She might well have some ideas in that respect. She'd been right about so many other things.

The morning was nearly gone when they caught their first glimpse of Helm's Deep, and Lisswyn wasn't the only one to be relieved. Eomer had ridden next to her, exhibiting a cheerfulness that would have been more believable if he hadn't been so pointedly ignoring Eothain. Eowyn had alternated between riding with them and riding near the captain of the guard, her expression troubled no matter where she was.

Apparently in an effort to prove it was only Eothain he was out of sorts with, Eomer had given Jocosa a ride on Firefoot, then taken pity on her younger brother, apparently unable to hold out against the sorrowful look Hengest had been giving him.

Eomer's patience in responding to the toddler's garbled comments – most of which made no sense whatsoever – eased Lisswyn's worry some. Given Eomer and Eothain's long history together, it was unthinkable that the current tension would cause a permanent rift between them.

Realizing the childish voice had gone quiet, she looked over to see Hengest had dozed off to sleep in Eomer's arms. The sight tugged at her. How long would it be before she saw Eomer holding their own child that way? Was it possible that even now a babe was starting to grow in her womb?

"What is it? What are you thinking?" His voice interrupted her thoughts.

Not wanting to admit where her mind had been, Lisswyn nodded at Hengest. "I was just thinking about how quickly he fell asleep. Ceolwyn tells me that he fussed a lot when he was yet an infant, and the surest way to get him to sleep was on horseback. Something about the movement, apparently." Before Eomer could respond, she changed the subject, nodded in the direction of Helm's Deep. "Tell me about Hereward."

She knew Hereward and his extended family lived in the keep and were responsible for keeping it in readiness to provide for the people of the Mark in an emergency. He was also acting as a liason between the Eorlingas and the dwarves who had taken up residence in the caves. But she knew little else of the man who would be hosting them.

Eomer nodded, understanding her request. "He served in my father's eored, was injured in the attack that took my father's life. Afterward, he found it difficult to sit a horse for long periods of time, so he left the eored and took up farming – and raising children." Amusement came into his eyes, quickly faded. "He lost the farm and two of his sons to Uruks a year ago. He and his three youngest sons, along with his brother – who farmed with him – were away at Aldburg, trading their crops when they were attacked, else more of them would have died. The women were spared because they hid in a cellar Hereward had designed for just that purpose." His voice was flat with controlled anger. "His daughters-in-law first heard their husbands convince the Uruks that no one else was on the farm. Then they heard them die."

It wasn't an unfamiliar tale, but tears came to Lisswyn's eyes anyway at the thought of the horror and grief the women had experienced. She cleared her throat. "How many dwell with him in the Deep, then?"

"His wife, his youngest son, three daughters-in-law, two daughters, and assorted grandchildren. His sister and the brother and his family also live there."

"What of Hereward's other sons? You said three were with him at Aldburg when the farm was attacked."

"One died on the Pelennor. The other had just joined my guard when we were attacked by Hunlaf's orcs. He died defending me."

She looked up over at him, wished there was some way of easing the guilt she knew he still carried. "Eomer—"

He gave a sharp shake of his head. "I know. There was nothing I could have done. And Hereward told me last fall that his son knew the risk when he joined my guard, and I shouldn't second guess him." His lips curved in a lopsided grin. "Hereward is like Redwald in that he feels he can respect me as king while bossing me around. It comes from having ridden with my father."

Lisswyn smiled, glad to see the unhappiness easing from his eyes. "He sounds like a wise man."

"I'm sorry you didn't meet him last fall. He came to Edoras shortly before the wedding to get supplies, but didn't stay – there was too much that needed done to make the Deep habitable before winter."

They crested a rise in the land and saw the mountain in front of them, the keep at its feet. Eomer gently tumbled Hengest back into the cart before looking over at her. "Hereward has no doubt set a watch and will be coming to welcome us. Will you join me in riding to meet him?"

At her nod, he turned, began weaving his way through the other riders, not breaking into a canter until he was safely clear of the group. He still didn't look at Eothain.

Lisswyn sighed silently and followed him. The two men obviously needed to talk, but whether there would be the time – and privacy – for them to do so at the Deep remained to be seen.

That Hereward's life had not been easy was apparent in his limp and in the scar that ran up the side of his weathered face. But there was pride in his eyes as he moved forward, and honest affection in his gaze as he came to meet them, affection obviously returned by Eomer as he dismounted, went to grasp the other man's arm. "Hereward."

"My lord."

Eomer held out his hand to her, and Lisswyn dismounted, moved to take it. "This is my lady, Lisswyn."

Hereward gave her a keen look, then ducked his head in acknowledgement. "My lady, it's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine, Hereward." Standing near him was his extended family, and there were a lot of smiles – some quite shy – as she looked over and smiled at them in return.

Then a boy in his young teens came forward to take their horses – only to be denied by Eoden, who'd followed them on his own mount, Fleetfoot. That he had done so didn't surprise her – whenever possible, the boy was never far from Firefoot, or Firefoot's master. But the crestfallen look on the other boy's face touched her.

Before she could figure out a way to alleviate his disappointment, Eomer crossed over to him, rested his hand on his shoulder. Nodding toward Eoden, who'd obviously just figured out that he was going to have his hands full with Firefoot and Fleetfloot, and couldn't possibly handle Dancer as well, he said, "Until Firefoot gets to know you, it will probably be better for Eoden to handle him. But his hands are rather full at the moment – would you help him by stabling the queen's horse?"

The boy nodded, pleasure in his eyes, though it was hard to tell whether it was due to the king's hand upon his shoulder or the suggestion that he'd eventually be able to care for Firefoot. With a smile, Lisswyn led the mare to him. "She would no doubt really enjoy a good brushing."

"I'll see to it, my lady."

"What is your name?"

"Herefeld."

"Thank you for caring for Dancer, Herefeld."

He grinned in response, and took the reins, "'Dancer' is it?"

Hearing her name, the mare pricked up her ears and moved sideways, then back to the boy. Lisswyn reached out, stroked her neck and let her own amusement show. "She likes to dance," she whispered to him conspiratorially.

His grin broadened, and he ducked his head in a bow. "I'll take good care of her, my lady."

He led the horse away, and Lisswyn's own smile increased as she watched it dawn on him that he might not be holding Firefoot's reins, but he was still leading the king's horse, as Eoden hadn't known where the stables were. She knew Eoden well enough to know the boys would be fast friends by the time they'd finished settling the horses.

"It's a good thing Andric stayed behind with the cart." Eomer's voice was low and amused in her ear. "That wouldn't have been quite so easy if he'd been here, determined to take Dancer."

She grinned at him, sharing his amusement, the looked up as Hereward cleared his throat.

"Thank you for that, Sire. My grandson has talked of nothing else but caring for your mounts since word came that you'd be visiting us, and I didn't know how to warn him that you'd probably have someone with you whose duty it already was."

"He seems a fine lad, Hereward," Eomer said.

The man nodded, but looked pleased. "He'll do. He's much like his father was at that age." Sadness shadowed his eyes for a moment, but he quickly pushed it away, cleared his throat again. "We thought you might wish to rest for a while before seeing the changes we're making. My wife has the guest chambers prepared."

"We'd appreciate—" Eomer's next words were cut off by a roar.

Startled, Lisswyn looked up, saw what could only be the dwarf Gimli coming toward them – at a much faster clip than what she would have expected from someone so short.

"Where is he? Why didn't someone send for me?" Gimli shouted as he plowed through Hereward's family – who were quick to move out of the way, amusement in their eyes.

Eomer, a grin on his face as well, went to meet him. As they embraced, Eomer said, "They shouldn't have had to send for you. You should have been out here waiting to greet us!"

"I was busy with your caves!"

Eomer laughed. "In which case, I'm fortunate you came out to meet us at all."

Gimli turned to Lisswyn. "I did not come out to meet you, Horselord, but rather the woman who took on the task of being your queen."

When Eomer looked at her, his expression was one of pride and love, a look that never failed to humble her. "And some task that is," he said, walking back to her, his hand outstretched. "But she is up to it."

Lisswyn accepted his hand, allowed him to tug her to him. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as she turned to face the dwarf.

The look he was giving her was so focused, so intent, it would have been rude from anyone else. It certainly left no doubt that she was being thoroughly inspected. Then he nodded. "You'll do."

Nonplussed, and not a little offended, Lisswyn tried to figure out how to respond even as Eomer growled behind her, apparently annoyed with his friend on her behalf.

Then Gimli grinned, and bowed. "My apologies, your majesty. Rohan matters to me, as does her king."

That the statement was heart-felt was obvious, and all insult faded. Here was another whose love for, and allegiance to, her husband was unshakeable. "I understand." And she did. "We're honored by such loyalty," she added softly.

"And he is treating you well?"

Noise erupted from behind her. "Gimli!"

Lisswyn grinned at the dwarf, then turned to look up at her affronted husband. "He treats me very well indeed."

Mollified, but with an expression indicating Gimli wasn't completely off the hook, Eomer subsided, still glowering at the dwarf.

Gimli simply grinned, then his eyes lit as he looked behind her. Turning, Lisswyn saw Eowyn riding up to join them, Brynwyn in front of her, which probably explained why she'd been delayed. Behind them, she could see the rest of the party drawing closer.

Gimli started forward. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd stayed at Edoras!"

Eowyn laughed, and dismounted, then reached up to help Brynwyn down. "My apologies. I was distracted, and didn't realize you'd come out."

"A likely excuse."

Eomer and Lisswyn walked over to join them as Brynwyn, her eyes never leaving the dwarf, started edging toward them, an uncertain look on her face.

Gimli stopped her, pinned her with a glance not unlike the one he'd given Lisswyn. "And who might you be?"

Brynwyn froze, and Eomer stepped up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. "This is Brynwyn, Gimli. She is Lisswyn's sister."

"Ah. The brave one. Very good." Puzzled, Lisswyn looked over at Eomer to see him shake his head as if he didn't understand the reference either. Gimli kept his eyes on Brynwyn. "I was told you saved Eomer-king's life. Is that not true?"

"Yes," Eomer said firmly when Brynwyn looked up, plainly uncertain as to how she should respond. "She found me when I'd been struck by the arrow, then went for help, in spite of the danger."

Gimli nodded in satisfaction. "Very good." Then he grinned again, and held out his arm to her. "Would you like to see the caves, my lady?"

Still obviously flustered, Brynwyn looked over at Lisswyn before nodding and moving forward to put her hand on his arm. Then they turned and all started toward the ramp up to the keep.


	4. Chapter 4

Several days later, Lisswyn sat in a small room off her and Eomer's chamber, staring at the parchment in front of her, mildly horrified. "You mean the letters change, and look different sometimes?"

Ceolwyn's lips twitched, and Lisswyn scowled at her. Eomer was in the stables with Hereward while Eowyn was in the caves with Gimli, Brynwyn and Jocosa. With Hengest and Denulf napping, Lisswyn had asked Ceolwyn to begin showing her the basics of writing the letters of the alphabet.

"My apologies," Ceolwyn said in response to the scowl, humor still visible in her eyes. "I'm not laughing at you, but rather remembering my similar response when I first encountered letters. They actually only change in specific circumstances, such as the beginning of a sentence, and are helpful in that respect."

"But that means there are twice as many to learn!"

"Yes, but you can do it." She pointed to the parchment, where she'd written out both versions of the letters.

Lisswyn took the quill, and on a different parchment, began to copy the letters.

A light knock at the door interrupted her. "Come," she said.

Eothain came in, shut the door behind him. "Ceolwyn told me you were hoping to start working on learning your letters today, and I thought I'd offer my assistance, as I'm not needed elsewhere."

There was a discouraged note to his voice, and Lisswyn understood why. He and Eomer still hadn't spoken, and Ceolwyn had told her that Eothain felt it wisest to stay out of Eomer's way until they did. But that the rift in their relationship was taking a toll was obvious in the weariness visible in the other man's eyes, and Lisswyn suppressed a sigh, wondering again if there was something else she could be doing. Eomer was unhappy as well, though he was making every effort to hide it.

"Certainly," she said in response to his implied question. "Ceolwyn has just been explaining that the letters change their appearance when it suits them. Deceitful little things they are."

As intended, he grinned in response to her tone, then came over and settled in a chair next to her, began looking at the letters she'd been copying onto the parchment. "These are very well done," he murmured. "You have a neat hand." Then he paused, reached out to touch one of the dried characters. "Have you seen much of Eomer's writing?"

"No, not really. Why?"

"He makes his E in the same way, with that little curl at the end." He pushed the parchment away, stared off into space. "We learned our letters together," he murmured. "And he did not start out the best pupil. He hated being away from the horses, resented time spent learning to read and write rather than ride and fight. It was finally Breghelm, I believe, who pointed out that if he'd devote the same amount of time to learning his letters as he did complaining about it, he'd have it over and done with. To our tutors' relief, Eomer then learned more quickly than all the rest of us put together."

Lisswyn could not help but grin at the thought of Eomer as a stubborn young boy. Then the smile faded as she watched Eothain stand, move restlessly around the room. It was clear his thoughts were in the past, and again she struggled to find the words to help.

"Was it so wrong of me to want him safe?" he blurted out, turning to stare at her.

Ah. Here it was. "Of course not." She measured her words carefully, kept her tone utterly neutral. "But was a race with his sister so dangerous?"

He scowled. "Anyone could have been out there. The plains are deceptive, with hidden depressions in the ground, small hills to hide behind."

Lisswyn looked at him steadily.

"It could have been dangerous," he insisted. "You think there are brigands who would not hesitate to try and take the king for ransom?"

"Then more fools are they not to realize how fast and final the penalty would be," she said almost absently, her mind focused on how to make him understand. "But there are dangers other than to his body."

"What do you mean?"

"The danger to his heart if he thinks he is never again to be allowed to ride across the plains simply for the joy of it." He gave her a sharp look, but before he could speak, she continued. "He knows there is more at stake than just him, Eothain. He knows that to risk himself unnecessarily is also to risk you, all your men, and indeed, the Riddermark. You are not the only one who still has nightmares of the orc attack last fall," she said more gently. "Yours are of being separated from him, watching him fall to the arrow, the memory of feeling you'd failed both him and the Mark. His are of seeing some of your men – such as Hereward's son – killed, and then assuming all of you – including _you, _the brother of his childhood – were dead on his account."

He opened his mouth, shut it with a snap.

"Both of you are going to pay for that day in dreams for the rest of your lives. But how much higher must the cost be? Must he spend all the rest of his life locked in Meduseld because of Hunlaf's orcs?" She thought of Maegwen and finished on a bitter note, "Have they not already stolen much from us? Must they take all pleasure out of the rest of his life?"

There was long silence, and when he spoke again, there was uncertainty and confusion in his voice. "He is not as free as other men."

"No. And he knows that. Duty alone will keep him in Meduseld much of the time. And beyond knowing that to risk himself is to risk the Mark, he would never want to do anything that would place you or the rest of his guard in danger. But…" she hesitated, wondered if she was going to offend him.

"But what?"

"If perhaps the two of you could work together to determine what is truly dangerous, and what acceptable risks might be…you might both be happier."

"There may come a time when we disagree, when I think something is too dangerous."

"Yes. But if you've established a pattern where he knows you won't limit him needlessly, he'll question you less – particularly if you explain why you think it's unwise."

He said nothing, stared hard at the floor, frowning. Then he looked up, and regret, even shame, was in his eyes. "I called him irresponsible, a fool."

"I know."

Without a word, he turned and walked out, and remembering the baffled hurt in Eomer's voice, Lisswyn could only hope he was on his way to put things right.

* * *

It took Eothain some time to locate Eomer and Hereward, as they'd moved from the stables to where the base of the wall was being repaired. He didn't mind, as it gave him a chance to think over the queen's words. Wise words, at that. When had he stopped seeing his friend, started seeing nothing but the king when he looked at Eomer? Why had he not realized how Eomer had suffered over the events of last fall, of knowing that men had died trying to protect him?

Because he'd been unable to see past his own memories of that day. And they'd both suffered for that.

He hesitated a short distance from where Eomer and Hereward had their backs to him, examining the stones that were being used to rebuild the wall. What to say? How to say it?

Eomer finally turned, saw him, and his eyes went cool. Eothain met his gaze, simply waited. After a moment, Eomer turned, spoke quietly to Hereward. The other man nodded, then turned, headed away from them to check the rest of the wall. Without looking to see if Eothain was following, Eomer jerked his shoulder that he should follow, then started up the steps that would lead them to the lookout over the deep.

Would give them a chance at privacy.

When he got to the top, he found Eomer resting his elbows against the wall, staring out over top of it, as if he neither knew nor cared whether Eothain had followed him.

Silence grew between them, stretched. "You are neither irresponsible nor a fool."

Eomer looked at him, a wary look on his face. "Oh?"

"No. But at least one of those terms applies to the captain of your guard – if he indeed still holds that position."

"When did you come to this conclusion?" The words were casually, almost off-handedly said, but his eyes were now sharp, hard. And only a man who'd known him all his life would have seen what was behind that look. Apprehension. Hurt. Betrayal. Knowledge that he'd caused it made him nearly ill.

"When your lady wife drove home some uncomfortable truths in her usual kind manner."

Wordlessly, Eomer turned, stared back over the wall.

"I never thought you irresponsible, nor a fool. Never. She did not have to help me see that. When I spoke thusly to you, it was due to my own fear, my own memories of the day of the orc attack. Rather, the queen merely pointed out something I should have seen for myself, understood on my own – and would have, if I hadn't been so trapped by my own memories of that day."

"And what is that?' He didn't turn.

"What it would be like to be you. To have watched men fall that day. Eomer, I'm sorry."

At that, Eomer finally did turn, looked at him again. "I cannot be the king my uncle was, or the one my cousin would have been, Eothain," he said quietly. "I want you beside me, as a friend, as an advisor, and helping to keep me safe. But I cannot spend my life tethered to Meduseld, would not be an effective king if I tried to do so – not even for you."

The words were mildly spoken, but they stung, because he knew that that was what he'd wanted. He'd wanted Eomer to make choices based on what would be easiest for himself, not what would be best for the Riddermark – or for her king.

"I should not have asked you to do so."

Eomer looked at him, cocked his head. "There may still be times when I disagree with you concerning whether something is safe or not."

He nodded, felt something click back into place. Their friendship. "Then we'll discuss it. One thing, though."

"What?"

"Will you trust me enough to yield to me on matters concerning your safety about which we disagree?"

His oldest friend stared at him for a long moment, then gave a short nod. "You are the captain of the king's guard," he said firmly. Then he motioned out over the wall, invited Eothain to join him.

Eothain walked over, leaned against it, looked out over the deep, and the plains beyond. Their silence now was companionable, and they stood there together, shoulder to shoulder, for a long while before Eothain finally said, "You chose a fine queen for us."

Eomer gave him a quick, amused grin. "Pulled you in line, did she?"

"Carefully sliced me open before I even saw her knife, and did it so gently I had no idea what was happening."

"I'm rather acquainted with that talent of hers, myself."

"I'll bet you are."

* * *

Lisswyn frowned at the parchment. Before taking her sons off to find Jocosa and Brynwyn, Ceolwyn had written some simple words for her to begin copying. She understood the point of writing them over and over, but recognizing whether she was doing it right or not, simply by comparing her attempts with Ceolwyn's, wasn't proving as easy as it seemed it should have been.

There were so many words she'd have to learn. The number was overwhelming – how did you ever get to the point of knowing them all? How many did you have to learn before you could consider yourself able to read?

The door opened, and she started, then stared at Eomer in dismay. It was nearly time for the evening meal – she should have realized he would be looking for her, should have already put the parchment away. Too late now.

"What? Why are you looking at me that way?" The pleased look he'd been wearing when he opened the door had slipped to a frown of confusion.

She forced a smile, wished she'd had time to become a little more proficient before showing him what she learning. "Nothing. I just wasn't expecting you to return so soon." Had Eothain found him? Was that what was behind the smile he'd been wearing?

"What are you doing?" He walked over to where she sat at the desk, stared down at the parchment.

She struggled briefly with how to answer, then looked up, met his gaze. "The queen must be able to read and write."

Understanding registered in his eyes, followed by regret. "I'm sorry, Lisswyn. I should have realized, should have made arrangements for someone to teach you. I just didn't think of it." He reached for one of the parchments, pulled it toward him, examined the letters. "These are very good."

"Some of the letters are easier than others."

"I remember that from when I was learning." He dropped the parchment, turned, and before she quite knew what was happening, had scooped her up, settling back into the chair with her on his lap. "Let's try it this way." He handed her the quill, then placed his hand on top of hers as she first dipped it into the inkwell, tapped the excess off, then placed it on the parchment.

Carefully, he began guiding her through some of the letters she'd been having trouble with, helping her to get in the habit of forming them.

After they'd done that a few times, he helped her to write a word she recognized, indeed had been practicing earlier: E-O-M-E-R. She grinned at him, then turned her attention back to where he was helping her write her own name. In such a way, they practiced a number of other words Ceolwyn had written out for her: horse, foal, sun, him, her, as, also, run.

Then, his hand still on hers, he wrote his name again, followed by a word she didn't know, followed by her name.

Puzzled, she stared at the middle word.

"Sound it out."

With a frown, she did so, then felt something soft shift inside her. Grinning in response, she tugged a new piece of parchment toward her, and pulling her hand away from him, by herself she wrote: 'Lisswyn loves Eomer also."

In answer, he brought his hand up, cupped her cheek and turned her to face him. She dropped the quill, slid her hand behind his neck, and met his lips with her own.

They took their time with the kiss, a slow mingling of breaths, intimacy the goal rather than passion. Then he lifted his head, pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"Did Eothain find you?"

"He did." He tilted her chin up so he could see her. "He says I chose my queen well."

"All I did was remind him of what he would have known himself, had he been able to look beyond the orc attack."

"But that is something neither of us was doing." He brought his hand up, began rubbing her back as he once more pulled the parchment toward him with his other hand. "Eomer loves Lisswyn very much," he said softly, looking down at the words they'd written.

--fin

* * *

_A/N: As always, many thanks to those who've read and reviewed this. I'm glad you've enjoyed it! I'm toying with ideas for other sequels, one of which will hopefully be along before the new year. _


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